


Impatience

by Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it (TheMusicalCC)



Category: Book of Life (2014)
Genre: Clothed Sex, F/M, Married Sex, Semi-Public Sex, Trekkie monster voice: PORN PORN POOOORN, this one was basically self-indulgence, wedding shennanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-06
Updated: 2018-12-06
Packaged: 2019-09-12 20:46:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,645
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16878891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMusicalCC/pseuds/Kinkerbell-made-me-do-it
Summary: Sometimes you just can't wait.





	Impatience

**Author's Note:**

> Another transfer from Tumblr. I really did write a lot of porn.

It’s a bit surprising for him when, in the middle of the wedding reception, when the guests are just getting drunk enough to start being obnoxious, La Muerte tugs from his hand to get his attention and makes a subtle sign for the back of the main hall, where the hallway leading to her - _their_ \- bed chambers lies. Truthfully, Xibalba’s a bit dazed by the sight of her in the wedding dress to realize what she means at first, but then he sees the gleam of her eyes, the heave of her chest, the blush spreading across her cheeks like the faint rose tint in the clouds at sunset and,  _oh_ , it hits him. His gut does a small back-flip and his heart starts racing.

“ _Mi amor_?” he staggers. Marvelous how his brain can work at full speed even in the face of certain destruction, but not when she looks at him like this.

“ _Now_ , Xibalba” she laughs, but it’s a laugh he’s rarely heard on her. It’s almost a sigh and it dies deep in her throat, it makes the tingling in his extremities become almost unbearable. Her hand traces a line from his neck and to his chin that makes him squirm in delight “I want you now”

He swallows, mouth breaking into a wide, wide smile. This seems surreal. Has she had too much to drink?  _Pulque_  never affects her, but somehow, his first thought is that she must be drunk. He has to rectify himself when she moves her face so close to him that she could kiss him and he has time to realize her eyes are completely alert before she teleports away with a laugh, veil discarded. He follows in his ink-blob shape, almost by instinct, not minding for one moment whether they’ve been seen leaving their table by their guests.

The chase is short, this time she has every intention of letting him catch her and when he does, it’s against a wall and she’s already dragging him into a nibbling kiss before he regains his breath.

“Impatient, are we?” he pants, dipping for a kiss on the side of her jaw. She makes a throaty noise as his hands shift for the sides of her hips and he grinds against her and whispers into her skin “Then I’d better not make you wait”

“You old pervert” she sentences in a whisper. Is it just him or does she seemed thrilled? The music coming from the main hall is still pretty loud, as well as the laughter and conversations. By all means, this is crazy, they could get caught by someone…to him, that makes it all the more exciting, but to her? Judging on how she cradles his jaw and claims his mouth again, she shares his sentiment _._ _Dioses,_ he loves this woman _._  He has to lean on the wall so they don’t fall over and her words, between kisses, are heated and breathless “We didn’t even make it to the bed”

He can only reply in a grunt, as he grasps at her hips again, mouth moving for her neck and collarbone barely over the hem of her dress, and she raises her leg to hike her knee over his hipbone, pressing herself closer, her skirt sliding back. He uses the chance to trail a hand up her inner thigh, until he’s touching her core directly and the tips of his fingers tease her. Her gasp vibrates against his mouth and he takes the hint to further the friction, circling in agonizingly slow movements. He can all but feel the warm slickness, even through his gloves and this, coupled with the half held-back noises she’s letting out (He knows she’s biting her lips to stop the noises from coming, he just knows it) makes him eager for direct contact rather quickly and he stops teasing her to fumble with himself.

She shifts against him in anticipation, sighing in his ear, and a what seems like a lightning of pleasure runs through him at the feeling.

“You drive me so wild, woman” he hisses, aligning himself before penetrating her with a blissful grunt.

La Muerte breathes out, her body tensing for a moment as one of his hands grasps under her thigh to support her, and he starts moving. The quivery breath she draws in as one of her hands moves to the back of his head, pressing his mouth hard against her clavicle, lets him know he’s doing well, before he inches closer, pressing her against the wall, thrusting deeper, extracting a small moan that seems to tickle down is spine. His wings flap open in response. Well, at least now they needn’t worry about being seen. Being heard? Now, that’s a different story, he thinks, as a movement of her hips makes him let out a loud groan to which she responds with an amused hum.

“Enjoying yourself, my love?” she mutters into his ear, between breaths that make him squirm.  _Tease_. He squeezes her flesh between his fingers for a moment and pushes a bit harder.

“And you?”

She gasps again.  _Loud_. Her hand flies to her mouth but he grabs it and pries it away, against the wall, raising his eyes to look at her. Her face is very flushed and her mouth hangs open. She looks like the temptation to cover it again is almost unbearable, but her free hand is hanging from the back of his neck. She looks glorious.

“Xibalba–!” she groans, fighting his grasp.

“I want to hear you” Xibalba heaves out, before placing a somewhat sloppy but passionate kiss to her lips and thrusting again, and he swallows her moan, before putting just enough distance between their faces to see her expressions and relish them properly. He keeps moving, using his grasp on her hip to direct her movements and elicit more sounds from her, unable to keep his own throaty groans from coming. She makes a circling motion with her hip, as though searching for a specific inclination and he drives her up the wall to the point where he almost completely slips out of her to then bury himself to the hilt with what is almost a growl that joins her own delighted cry. He’s pretty sure someone must have heard that, but, then again, the party is pretty loud. He’s not sure if the idea disappoints him or relieves him. She purrs his name, arms surrounding his neck as he resumes his thrusts with renewed vigor, and accelerates pressing her against the wall so hard that he has one second to worry whether he’s hurting her -if the noises she’s making and the undulations of her body are any indicator, he isn’t. 

The sight of her squirming and the sound of her voice, carrying louder and higher with every stroke is more than he can bear and he presses against her in his release, feeling as though his legs will bend and throw them both to the ground, it’s only completely resting his weight on the wall that he manages to stay on his feet, shivering as his hips convulse forward frantically before decreasing the rhythm.

She keeps moving, grinding her hips, peppering kisses to the side of his jaw that seem like sparks of pleasure at the end of his climax, shifting to surround his waist with her legs, pressing their torsos together so that, even through the breastplate, he feels her heartbeat. After a minute or two, her hands trailing to his back to caress the base of his wings. The contact ignites his senses again. It’s his turn to moan, so loud and helplessly that he’s embarrassed for a moment before his hands find their way under the dress fabric to either side of her broad hips and squeeze the flesh there.

“Not done yet” he mumbles heatedly.

“You bet” she says with a smirk as he resumes his pace slowly, dragging the friction as much as he can. Soon enough, she’s moaning again. Her voice escalates at his movements, muscles clenching. Her hands are everywhere, grabbing, scratching, like she isn’t quite sure of what to do with them, and she suddenly makes a noise, like a relieved whine, body arching one last time before relaxing against the wall behind her, breathing out as one does after a great physical strain. It takes him a moment to slide out with a wet noise that is oddly satisfying to his ears, collect her in his arms and dive for much more placated, soft kisses between which content, satisfied sighs escape her mouth.

“That good?” he says teasingly as he places her down. She slaps his shoulder softly

“Don’t get cocky”

“Good enough to that it couldn’t wait until wedding night?”

“Seriously?” she laughs. Her cheeks are still slightly flushed and there are loose strands of hair over her face. He carefully brushes them back into the hairdo and quickly inspects her dress, looking for any suspicious-looking stains- thankfully, there are none he can spot. She reaches for his crown and straightens it, taking a moment to brush his mustache and beard back into place, and then caresses the side of his face. He leans towards the touch almost without noticing. “You don’t know what you do to me, do you?

Xibalba freezes, giving her a bewildered look. Is she seriously saying that to him when it’s him that has to all but hold himself together at just one touch from her? Then again, and taking in account what just happened, he has to believe her. Maybe because he seemed distracted, she grabs his face and moves her own closer a tender smile on her lips.

“I love you so” La Muerte says, before landing a small peck to the corner of his mouth “Now, let’s get back to that reception before anyone notices”

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what to say, I apparently enjoy writing sex quite a lot


End file.
